I Was Wrong, Take Me Back
by MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: After hours of moping around, Justin Taylor finally put two and two together to make the obnoxious and beautiful Brian Kinney the only man he'd ever love. One-Shot, Canon AU gap-filler during 3x08.


**QUEER AS FOLK USA**

**I WAS WRONG: TAKE ME BACK!**

**~ooooOOOOoooo~**

_Wouldn't it be amazing to be… an android?_

Justin Taylor smiled, doodling on a piece of scrap paper he'd retrieved in amongst the artistic chaos of posters and magazines strewn across a table. The rest of Vangard's Art Department were out on a coffee break, but he'd stayed behind, suddenly inspired by the desire to recreate the _perfect_ android. He never needed an excuse to draw; it was instinctive, like breathing. He lived for pencil and paper like a scholar hungered after wisdom in books. The very notion that life's great canopy could be reproduced with nothing but the mere scratching of graphite against a sheet would never cease to amaze him.

Drawing also helped him think, although it often encouraged a flurry of vivid images he didn't want to rediscover. Memories like being bullied, his bigoted father, Chris Hobbs… Today, his thoughts were not unpleasant, but they were not entirely comfortable either. He had a particular problem at hand- one filled with various complexities, requiring delicate treatment. And this was not a spur of the moment occasion; no, it had almost swallowed him whole for the past few weeks as he vegetated at Daphne's flat, wondering whether he was doomed to become a hermit until he died.

The problem? One Mr. Brian Kinney. Who else would it be? There could be no one in the world quite capable of causing as much heartache and annoyance as this beautiful, infuriating man. Who else had a smile that could transform rock into liquid gold, whose dick had been down half of Pittsburgh's mouths, whose overweening arrogance was enough to make a grown man cry? Only Brian Kinney could bring the words "irrationally perfect" and "insufferable asshole" together in concordant harmony.

(He should know about the "perfect asshole" part himself- been there, done that.)

Such an exquisite complication, such a misunderstood phenomenon was the Brian Kinney. He was a complex equation, an unknown formula- a science experiment gone woefully wrong- or wonderfully right. Nobody could truly know him, nobody could imitate him, nobody could own him. Right at the peak of his own self-importance and sexual prowess must be a great view of the world fawning at his feet; mere mortals paying their respects to the Eighth Wonder of the World.

Yes, Brian Kinney was an inconvenience.

Even he, Justin, the romantic, the dreamy-eyed twink who believed in love, Fate, Destiny and all things mythical could not stand to lose so much control over his emotions. Yes, he wanted to be swept off his feet, but at his own pace. Brian would not allow that- hazel green eyes fixed on his made his breath freeze in his throat, tempting full lips and the promise of lean muscle underneath those obscenely overpriced suits cast his mind adrift. There could be no measured manner of infatuation in the face of sex personified.

Still, another twist lay further entangled in this hopeless mess: he'd somehow managed to convince the most aloof man on the planet to… fuck him more than once, even to stay with him in a non-conventional arrangement. They'd gone out most evenings, slept in the same bed most nights. Justin had been responsible for the sacred act of making Brian's morning coffee, and sometimes, they had gone down to the store to get groceries… together.

But believing his own superficial desire for affection to transcend Brian's silent display of real love, he had cast aside the same rules in their relationship he insisted that Brian abided by, in favour of a precocious Violinist whose promises of roses and picnics appealed to his supposedly starved soul.

How had such a romance played out? Sure, in the preliminary stages, their story had been as smooth as a melodious Aria… until it ascended to an unsettling Allegro and came crashing to a halt with a stormy Cadenza. Last thing he remembered was bitter thorns of regret piercing his soft palms as he scrunched a bouquet of roses, throwing damaged petals- his broken heart- back at the man who had promised him glittery dreams of success both in life and in love. Tears had been shed, blood was spilled and his pre-conceived notions were toppled on their head one by one.

Not knowing what to do or who to turn to, he'd wandered the streets for a while afterwards, feeling sorry for himself. Daphne was the next best option; a stable, loyal friend who loved him without reservation. A long hug and a reassuringly unhealthy supply of cigarettes were his next port of call as he tearfully recounted the tragic split of Artist and Violinist. She was a sympathetic listener, but her act was not convincing; from her non-committal answers, it was clear she had been expecting this all along. Daphne had always let it be known she much preferred Brian…

…And now he knew- far too late- that he wholeheartedly agreed with her.

Had he loved Ethan? Sure, a little. The discovery of Ethan's infidelity was enough to bring him to tears, so there was little point in downplaying his original feelings just for the sake of bitterness. When they had first met, he had been enraptured by this genius, mop-head whose beautiful fingers ran so smoothly up and down that violin fingerboard, weaving a colourful fabric of melody all around his ears. And Ethan was the complete opposite of Brian- was more openly affectionate- could say that precious "l" word without reservation- how could Justin not respond to such attentions?

So why was he now pining after someone he had cheated on, lied to, and publicly humiliated? What foolish trend of thought led him from spurning a lover he thought far superior to composing beautiful odes to his imperfect, self-absorbed former flame?

He was mad, that was certain. But then love was not for the rational and faint-hearted. It was like a flash flood, striking at the most unusual times, overpowering its victim and dragging them into a never-ending pit of servitude and self-sacrifice, all for the sake of… someone else.

It could only ever have been _him._ Whether Ethan was useful or not, Justin had never wanted to admit that no one in this world- not even a Saint could hold a candle to Brian Kinney, the worst candidate for love. He'd just refused to acknowledge this fact, but even when wrapped up in Ethan's arms at night there would come stray moments of clarity when his thoughts wandered back to the Loft, to Babylon, to his first love. There had been times when he had woken abruptly in the dead of night, wondering where the hell he was, alarmed that he was not sleeping next to Brian. Then, slowly, the memories would creep back in, and he would settle back with a tight smile.

Now he was willing to admit there had been the slightest twinge of regret settling at the bottom of his stomach every time the image of Brian was replaced with Ethan. Not malicious regret- no, this was based in crippling guilt, shame, that he could not forget someone he accused of being an inept boyfriend. Paradoxically, it was then easier to encourage love for Ethan to cover up his restless mind.

Yet all fallacies would be revealed some day. A time of reckoning would come, and the mask had to slip from his face. There was never anything unique and precious about his relationship with Ethan- which was why Brian occupied ever corner of his heart. He only wished he could have seen- admitted- this beforehand. It was cruel that he could only listen once he had thrown away what he was lucky to have.

He knew nothing. His expectations were unreasonable, his sense of perception nonexistent. His previous arguments made little, if any sense.

Love was not being serenaded by some quaint old Nocturne, or drinking expensive wine, or having one's name on a frickin' CD. No, the real, heartfelt signs had come from the last person he'd expect. How could he ever have thought that preferring someone on the basis of being different to Brian was a credible reason for leaving the one who had always offered him so much more?

True love was when Brian was honest with him, allowed him to be himself, took him in after he was bashed, encouraged his art, paid for college even after they broke up, and protected him… Who cared even if all these good deeds were obscured under a haze of nonchalance, sarcasm and back-handed compliments? His impatient eyes had latched onto Brian's intransigent surface instead of focusing on the kind heart that shone through every thoughtful act.

What a time to realize that Brian was actually… the _one_?

Ever since he'd been slouching against a post in Liberty Avenue and caught the eye of this casually beautiful stranger staring at him of all people, he'd been transfixed.

It was no easy ride- and he meant that literally- but there was only one reason he had rushed off in floods of tears when Brian callously informed him he was nothing but a night of entertainment; maybe it wasn't _real_ love, but it was definitely something similar. Again, only one motive propelled him to win another night of shenanigans with this elusive, rebelliously promiscuous man. Once started, he could not stop; there'd be countless wet dreams, lazy, distracted smiles and constant eagerness to next see, talk to, be kissed, touched, fucked by Brian…

Add to that the sexually charged life drawings and feverishly scribbling the word "Brian" on every scrap of paper he could find and he was a recipe for disaster.

Granted, that madness was two years old now, and he had since learned to temper his outward feelings from something volatile to a calmer version of passionate love- but in his mind, he would never stop being that besotted kid.

Justin paused mid-doodle, wistful eyes staring sightlessly at the colourful posters heaped around him. He was doomed. There was no escape route for someone so wrapped up in fantasy except he was driven to something drastic like suicide. He smiled a little, remembering Daphne's suggestion back at her flat when he'd admitted he couldn't stop thinking about Brian. Maybe if he at least threatened to coil a rope around his neck, he was sure his former lover wouldn't bat an eyelid; hell, he'd probably offer to assist! Fortunately, Daphne- with her typical resourcefulness- had devised a far less painful solution; stalk Brian until…

Until… _something_ happened, he didn't know what. Come to think of it, adequate planning might have been useful for events after he infiltrated Vangard. Because after the frosty reception he received upon being conveniently re-introduced to his ex-boyfriend, he knew better than to expect a miracle. It came as no surprise that his smiles were met with glares, that Brian avoided speaking to him, left the room early if he saw he was going to be alone with Justin…

Still, he remained upbeat- that resilient flame of optimism inside of him hoping- just _hoping_- that Brian's icy exterior would eventually melt a little. Perhaps they'd meet one day at the office and his boss would say _"Hi"_ instead of glowering, and Brian would pretend not to be particularly interested when he asked: _"You alright?"_… Maybe he'd even pick up sheet of Justin's art work, raise an eyebrow and drawl: _"That's not bad…"_

Justin leaned back in his chair with a small sigh. Wishful thinking- what a miserable, endless trap that was. Still, he clung to it; this shining light in the pit of darkness that engulfed him. Maybe one day, Brian would drop his—

"Daydreaming, Taylor?"

Justin dropped his pencil, stared up into hard, disapproving hazel eyes with a visible gulp.

"Brian, you scared me!"

"It's Mr Kinney!"

His bashful smile slipped as reality set in. Of course, this was not the Loft; it was Vangard where he was duty-bound to stay in line and respect his elders.

"Mr Kinney. I was just… thinking."

His feeble diversion was met with a suitably scornful smile. Justin felt his breath catch in his throat watching that exquisite condescending expression in Brian's eyes, the subtle movement of his rosebud lips…

"In case you had forgotten, you have been hired to help the Art Department, not gaze into space… and draw _androids_ on scrap paper."

"Yes, Mr Kinney."

"Remember who was kind enough to hire your insolent ass-"

"—With all due respect, Mr Kinney, you did everything to prevent-"

"—So don't think you can try my patience… _Taylor. _Not unless you want to look for… _another agency_ to work at…"

Brian had leaned forward- in an intimidating manner- to punctuate his points. By rights, this should have produced the required effect; for Justin to shrink back in his chair, nod hastily and look busy. Not so; especially when Justin's nose was filled with the heady scent of ridiculously expensive cologne mixed with Brian's favourite shampoo and subtle undertones of aftershave. If he hadn't been forcing himself not to lose self-control, perhaps he would not have felt himself leaning closer to Brian in response- as though his hungry lips sought a kiss…

(It was also worth nothing the emphasis on _"another agency"-_ was Brian going to use any and every excuse to fire him?)

Once staring, he could not stop. Brian was just… beautiful, so beautiful up close. Those fallen angel features and husky voice, his smell, his mouth… The way he smiled when he was getting his way, the way his eyebrows knit together when he was irritated, his constant, exaggerated state of insouciance… The way he pressed his lips together and fiddled with paper when he had no clever comeback, or laughed randomly at some morbid or sexual thought that crossed his mind... Justin knew every single feature, every line, every expression- being so intimate with Brian's character was only proof that they were meant to be.

"Shall I make you a coffee, Mr Kinney?" he asked sweetly. "You seem pretty upset this morning! I love a drink when I am feeling stressed!"

He tried not to smile as Brian's mouth dropped open- this was another treasured expression- hilarious and endearing at the same time. Big Boss Kinney had not been expecting his thinly veiled threat to be answered in such a placid manner.

"A- A coffee?"

"Yes- you know that black drink they grow in India and Africa?" He'd very nearly added "honey" on the end of that question. "Anyway," he continued hastily before Brian could respond testily: "I wouldn't want to see my hardworking boss endure the _trauma_ of a caffeine-free day, so why not relax and let me bring you something irresistibly hot, full-bodied and steamy?"

"Irresistibly hot… full-bodied and… steamy?"

Why oh why did he have to realize how sexual that sounded- _after_ he had said it?!

"A-As in… coffee."

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Taylor. I can… make it myself." It occurred to him that Brian looked momentarily uncomfortable- or that might have been his imagination. Eye contact was broken hastily, and there was an awkward silence, before:

"Get back to work."

"But everyone else is on mid-morning coffee break!"

"Are you arguing with your boss? Unwise, Taylor- very unwise."

"That's not fair!"

"I don't care what's fair. I'm the partner in this agency, you're just a little pest whose stay here is- thankfully- temporary. Get back to work."

"You know…" Justin hesitated, taking a deep breath for moral support, "just because we broke up doesn't mean you have to be so… so mean to me. I accept the way in which we ended our relationship was less than pleasant, but I think we can still-"

"-Where are the new ad posters for Calvert's Steak? I need them completed by two this afternoon."

Justin blinked, before scrabbling across the desk to find the required items- too late, he remembered that other quirk in Brian's personality. For a man who was known to be direct, he had an infuriating habit of changing the topic whenever confronted with an issue he didn't want to talk about. Here it was again; his "boss" was suddenly very interested in the mood-boards scattered here and there in front of him, was even making notes on the nearest pad about them.

A good act- almost perfect, if Justin didn't know his former lover well enough to spot the difference; the tightness in Brian's lips, the refusal to make eye contact.

"They're here. Anyway, as I was saying, it isn't too late for us to get along, especially since-"

"-I think _this_ poster should be Tahoma font, size 18, black foam core and aligned centre for effect. Maybe… red lettering, and the guy needs to be airbrushed. No one should have a chin that big."

Justin didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Whatever you say," he sighed, giving up on their conversation altogether. Best to let Brian wriggle out of this tight corner alive… again. Whatever made him happy. God, he wished he could just close the distance between them, wrap his arms tightly around Brian's neck and plead for forgiveness! Pathetic as it sounded, he'd go to the ends of the earth to worm his way back into Brian's arms and bed- even if he'd have to resort to crime, it was worth it for the man he loved more than life itself.

"You know best, Mr. Kinney."

The other man made no comment, regardless of whether he'd heard Justin or not- simply plucked a few sheets from the chaotic pile, and walked out without even so much as a final warning about Justin's supposed lackadaisical attitude. The door slammed though, as a testament to his displeasure. Justin's wide eyes followed the retreating, suited figure until his image was just a hazy pinprick in time. However discouraging their encounters were, what could he do but try? Failure could never be an option where true love was concerned.

_I was wrong, please take me back..._

**_FINIS_**

* * *

**_My first attempt at writing Justin Taylor. Won't have been perfect, but I think it is good to try everything when writing for a fandom. Hope someone enjoyed this, nonetheless._**


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